


Storms

by TinyGryphon



Category: Psychonauts (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Vague Implied Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyGryphon/pseuds/TinyGryphon
Summary: After getting caught up in a post-mission downpour, Sasha finds it hard to distract himself from the unpleasant thoughts the rain brings him. Fortunately though, he does have some very helpful company.





	Storms

Contained within the small cubicle of polished tile and frosted glass, the warmth of the gushing shower unfortunately provided little distraction from the torrent of rain pelting the small hotel room from the outside of the wall.

He squinted dismally at the water pounding against the bathroom window, but his own reflection in the glass obscured the rest of his view of the darkened world beyond. His own appearance seemed to him a ghost, thin and bony and worn. Pale enough to have been transparent, but the drops bouncing off and trickling down his skin betrayed his solidity.

The image reminded him of other wet, ghostly days, and he squeezed his eyes shut to drown the memories out, but the persistent _patter patter patter_ of the running shower and storm outside spurned them on. Images of rain trailing down broken windows, and an old man standing beyond the glass, head-bowed, beside a sodden solemn grave and a twisted, gnarled tree.

He shuddered, suddenly sickened, but the thoughts continued their rush through his weary mind. How miserable it must be, to be buried in the rain. To be cold and wet and damp and dead, always dead, forever… forever… The sickness tightened his heart, and new tears ran down his cheeks and mixed into the stream flowing sporadically down his pale, aching body, and down the drain.

A sudden vibration, warm and vibrant, resonated through his thoughts and he snatched and clung to it, thankful for the reprieve.

_Are you alright, darling?_

He didn’t trust himself to answer, his heart and mind too shaky, too unstable to form a response. Instead, he simply listened as the gentle honeyed voice continued.

_I didn’t mean to pry, but I just… you know… empathy. I could feel you through the walls, darling, without even trying._

_… I’ll be fine, Milla._ He managed at last.

There was a brief silence, broken only by splashing droplets, and then…

_Did you need some company?_

The question lacked all of her usual flirtatious playfulness, and was nothing but soft and sweet, sincere and concerned. He glanced over, frowning thoughtfully at the vague doorframe-shape, barely visible through the rippled, frosted glass.

_… Only if it’s yours._

He felt the warmth of her laughter flicker at the edges of his mind, and it helped warm his own heart. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards slightly, and he watched as a large dark opening appeared beyond the shower glass, and a neon pink and brown blur moved into the room beside him.

A shape stretched out and pressed itself gently against the glass, a hand with long elegant brown fingers, reaching for him despite the barrier between them. He raised his own hand, at first to wipe his sore bleary eyes, and then touched it to his side of the glass, slowly spreading his fingers and aligning them with hers.

They stood in silence for a few moments, the almost-contact being simply enough. He felt the energy of her aura crackling through their connection, through the thin wall of glass, tickling his fingertips and palm and vibrating up his arm. She was as tired as he was, and worried about him, but still so so warm. She was always warm, he thought, and while she would’ve hated the comparison, her heat was fiery and burning enough that it made the steam surrounding him feel like an icy chill.


End file.
